


There Was Nothing You Could Do

by teatearsandbbc



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Rimming, Blowjobs, I mean it when I say PWP, M/M, PWP, less slight fluff, slight angst, sort of, top!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 15:57:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1516460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teatearsandbbc/pseuds/teatearsandbbc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John comes home from a bad day at the hospital and wastes no time getting what he needs from Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Was Nothing You Could Do

Sherlock’s gasps echoed out in the empty flat.

“John, John, John, God, John,” he moaned, his ebony voice on the edge of breaking.  His long, violinists fingers convulsed on the back of the couch as his head dropped to hang between his arms.  The long, dark curls stood in stark contrast to his crisp, white shirt, still buttoned neatly.  It had been tucked into his black dress pants, which were now pushed down around his thighs.  His feet were spread wide, where Doctor John Watson knelt between them.  Calloused hands slowly squeezed the pale skin of Sherlock’s ass as John spread him open.  His tongue pushed against Sherlock’s widening hole and every stroke brought forth a broken moan.

Sherlock had happened to be walking through the living room when John came in the door.  He didn’t say anything, but the detective could read the thunder in his eyes like a book.  Angry, frustrated, probably an issue with a patient, given the particular angle of his eyebrows and the slight smell of the operating room, he was guessing a patient lost on the table.  John hadn’t spoken, just grabbed Sherlock by the waist, spun him like a rag doll, and yanked his trousers and pants down just below the curve of his ass.  Sherlock was left hanging onto the couch they stood behind and trying to remember how to breathe.  John didn’t give Sherlock time to recover his stolen breath.  He just dropped to his knees, pushed the detective’s ass open, and buried his face there, licking and pushing and working his asshole slowly open.

Now Sherlock’s hole had stretched and relaxed enough to allow John to actually bury his tongue inside the taller man and Sherlock gave a small, wordless cry.  John pulled back and spoke for the first time.

“Going to suck you off, Sherlock.  You’re going to stand still and I’m going to shove your cock down my throat.  Got it?”  Sherlock’s dick gave a violent twitch at his doctor’s words and he barely managed to choke out a “Yes.”  John nodded once and then turned Sherlock again so his backside was against the back of the couch and his raging erection was inches from John’s face.  Again, John didn’t ease either of them in.  He grabbed Sherlock’s hips and in one swift movement, sheathed the entirety of the detective’s cock in his mouth.  Sherlock could feel John swallowing around him and he nearly screamed at the sensation.  John wasted no time.  He began to suck up and down Sherlock’s shaft, stroking his tongue firmly over the head and scraping his teeth over the sensitive flesh ever so slightly.  Every so often, he would take Sherlock down to the base again.  The taller man nearly buckled at the feeling of the tip of his cock pushing deep into John’s throat.  John had learned to suppress his gag reflex long ago, so he didn’t cough or gag at all.  Just took Sherlock in so deep his nose was brushing the detective’s pale stomach.

While John’s mouth was busy at Sherlock’s dick, his hands were wandering elsewhere.  One came up to cup and massage his balls.  The other was back at Sherlock’s hole and he pushed in two fingers straight off.  The combined feelings of John’s mouth wrapped entirely around his erection and his capable doctor’s hands working his testicles and pushing inside him tore Sherlock apart.  He babbled a nonsense litany of _John_ and _Oh god_ and _please_.  He wasn’t even aware of what he was saying any more.  He wasn’t aware of anything but John John John John.  Then when John’s fingers found his prostate and pressed down, he screamed.  Just before he came, John swallowed him down again, pushing Sherlock’s cock even further down his throat and holding there so long Sherlock knew he must be seeing spots.  Sherlock toppled.  He came down John’s throat in long, aching streaks that he thought would never end.  Just when he was sure the waves of pleasure had passed, John would squeeze his balls or press on his prostate or swallow around him and crying out, Sherlock would find himself overwhelmed all over again.

At long last, he was spent.  Only when his cock had given everything it had to give did John pull off, licking the bit of cum that he hadn’t managed to swallow off of Sherlock’s dick.  As he got to his feet, a bone-deep weariness seemed to come over him.  Sherlock knew not to ask.  He just took the doctor in his arms and held him close against his chest.  The smaller man sagged against him.

“There was nothing you could do,” Sherlock told him quietly.  He knew John would not be here like this if there remained even the slimmest option for saving the life. 

“There should have been.”  John’s voice was slightly raspy and Sherlock pressed a kiss to his hair.  The smaller man sagged against him and they stood there together, wrapped up in each other’s arms.  After a while, John heaved a deep sigh and pulled away.  He kissed Sherlock once, slow and sweet and Sherlock could feel the gratitude and love in it.  Then he walked into the kitchen.  Sherlock heard the kettle switch on to boil and life in 221 B went on the same as it always had.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments and suggestions! I can be found on Tumblr at the same username (teatearsandbbc) and my ask is always open for prompts, requests, or just to talk.


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